


half-alive

by tobedecided



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 20:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18581860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobedecided/pseuds/tobedecided
Summary: Feeling suffocated by grief at the compound, Steve escapes to Manhattan only to find himself in-front of the big, ugly building he once called home. What he didn't expect was to be invited inside.





	half-alive

A handwritten sign hangs outside his favorite coffee shop: _closed until further notice_.

Steve exhales heavily. He can’t blame the owner, though. Losing half your staff and a large number of customers might make running a business slightly complicated.

Unsatisfied, he turns away abruptly from the door and continues down the block, distancing himself from another reminder of his past life. A Steve Rogers who was hopelessly lost in this New World. A Steve who had his first cappuccino at Ellie’s Coffee & Pastries next to Bryant Park. A Steve who smiled sheepishly as the waitress brought him a regular drip coffee when she noticed the cappuccino relatively untouched on the far side of his table.

He tries but fails to ignore the deep feeling of anxiety growing in the pit of his stomach. It’s not like he had a plan when he jumped on his motorcycle and drove into the city before dawn. Nat would say he’s being impulsive, but he needed an escape—the silence of the compound was suffocating.

Yet, as he walks the nearly vacant streets of the once buzzing city, Steve begins to second guess his decision. Desolate is not a word one would use to describe New York.

But that was before.

This is their new reality.

As he walks down 7th Avenue, Steve reaches inside the pocket of his leather jacket to retrieve a familiar flip phone. He opens it to look at the only entry in the call log: the electronic date stamp marking two months since Bruce called, frantically alerting him that Vision was in danger.

Steve snaps the phone shut and replaces it his pocket, tucked away and safe. He’s not quite sure why he still carries it. Or maybe he does and he’s just too afraid to admit it.

 

 

 

The nightmares don’t bother him much anymore. He’d actually have to sleep for that to happen.

He’s not alone in his grief, of course. The surviving members of the team are all struggling with their own demons.

Bruce has been awfully avoidant bout his time in space, but Steve can’t blame him. To his knowledge, the Accords haven’t been brought up, which leads him to believe that Rhodey must’ve brought Bruce up to speed. Maybe even Thor, too. He’s grateful for it, really, because that’s something he just doesn’t have the strength for right now.

Natasha set out the day prior looking for traces of Clint, who was noticeably absent from his farm, having left nothing behind but the remains of a broken tracking anklet.

Thor and Rocket have been avoiding everyone, but Steve’s not exactly one to talk. Even so, he can't remember ever seeing Thor so distraught. Not during Loki's attack and surely not during Ultron. This was something else entirely: utter defeat.

As Steve turns east on 59th Street, he watches a small pack of stray dogs emerge from within Central Park. Instinctively, he looks around for their owners, or perhaps an overwhelmed dog-walker. All too quickly he realizes the probable explanation is that the owners are among the fallen; leaving the disheveled pack of dogs as secondary victims of Thanos’s destruction. Perhaps they belong in the same category of those who died on the operating table when half their surgical team turned to dust; or the innocent passengers of thousands of airline flights that were in the air at the wrong time; or the children who died starving as orphans with no one to care for them.

Steve turns away from the pack and walks down the adjacent block. There’s nothing he can do for them.

 

 

 

It’s been weeks since they recovered Fury’s mysterious pager from the rubble of Midtown Manhattan. Even with FRIDAY and Bruce’s examination, they’ve yet to find a way to trace who received the distress signal. Steve predicted Hulk would make an appearance by now from all the pressure. Yet, he hasn't seen a hint of green on Bruce’s skin.

_“I’m honored to continue Boss’ work in his absence,”_ FRIDAY had said as she attempted to decrypt the pager. At the time, Steve had blamed it on exhaustion, but he couldn’t miss a distinct sense of sorrow in her tone, making her sound almost human. It was as if FRIDAY grieving, herself. Can a computer understand emotion? He wondered.

_“Earth lost her best defender,”_ Steve recalls saying to Ross at the compound. More than anything, he mourns the missed opportunity to reconcile with Tony. The problems he once saw as all-consuming now seem minuscule compared to losing half the world’s population.

He’s angry. And tired. Frustrated, even, that they’re stuck trying to solve another one of Fury’s’ mysteries. Another week with no answers made hiding away and retreating to solitude awfully appealing. But he can’t risk losing what’s left of the team. Not again.

A part of himself wants to pick up the shield and put on the old uniform. People need a hero these days, if only for a distraction. He wants so desperately to fight, to avenge those who they've lost. But when the enemy can warp time and space, they don’t stand a chance. The battle in Wakanda proved that.

 

 

 

Steve observes the faces of the few who pass by him—vacant and lost. If any of them recognize him behind the beard and dark sunglasses, they make no indication. He relishes the newfound anonymity he gave up so many years ago.

Despite the apparent disguise his beard and glasses offer, Steve can’t help but steal a look over his shoulder as he turns a corner down Park. Being on the run for two years lays way to some form of paranoia. He can’t shake the feeling that a SWAT team is mobilizing to escort him to the Raft. They’re on borrowed time, even without Ross as the ringleader. The Accords didn’t disappear because of Thanos and Ross wasn’t alone in his beliefs. If, and when, diplomacy is restored, they’ll have to face the consequences.

Steve’s breath catches, causing him to involuntarily flinch at the discomfort. He might hate the emptiness of the compound, but the simple thought of having to go on the run again sends a lightning bolt of panic straight through him. For a moment, pure fear strikes through the hollowness he’s so accustomed to. It’s laughable how easy it is to mask the signs of depression behind the quiet reserve of a Captain.

 

 

 

Steve’s not sure how long he treks around the city before his troubled subconscious leads him to the Tower.

Familiarity overwhelms him. He’d give anything to go back to when it was their home. Team meetings in the conference room, movie nights with Thor, waking up to Natasha cleaning her weapons at the kitchen table—the little things that he once took for granted.

The building itself has clearly gone through some renovations since the team lived there. Most noticeably, the trademark “A” is absent from the upper floors.

Tony had all their belongings moved to the compound shortly after they defeated Ultron. As a team, they had danced around the idea of moving their base of operations to a vacant SI facility in Upstate New York.

Steve remembers being hesitant to leave Manhattan, but once Natasha informed him of a growing anti-super mentality from both civilians and local politicians, it was enough to convince him to support the move. The last thing he wanted was for Tony and his company to get backlash from their Avengers work. SHIELD, despite their reconstruction after HYDRA’s exposure and Fury’s departure, couldn’t fight all their battles.

"You can go inside if you like."

Lost in his own thoughts, Steve failed to realize he wasn't the only one standing on the sidewalk.

"Pepper." Steve turns to face her, unable to mask his shocked expression. "I'm—" The word 'sorry' dies on his lips. The list of things he's sorry for is much too long these days.

"It's okay," Pepper manages through a feigned smile. She gestures towards the Tower with a coffee in her hand. "Most of the floors have been empty for a while now."

"Rhodey mentioned something about a sale?" Steve asks, making a weak attempt at small talk. He can count time times he's spoken with Pepper on one hand.

Pepper frowns. "Let's just say the buyers weren't present at closing."

Steve watches a few people come and go inside the building. "Looks like it's still busy."

"Some of the residential floors still have occupants. Plus, we've allowed the City a few of the floors to process casework," Pepper explains in a rather monotonous tone as if she’s still in the boardroom. "Half-a-dozen non-profits fill up two additional floors, including the Maria Stark Foundation. I had the Board of Trustees set up a satellite office here temporarily."

"Casework?" Steve asks.

"Yes, the interim-Mayor created a program of social workers, former and current homicide investigators, and mental health professionals. If Thanos intended for The Decimation to force the world into a Utopia…what’s left is anything but,” Pepper says, her face turning in disgust. “There are looters everywhere. Murders happening daily that are being swept aside as casualties of Thanos. Miraculously, this is the first week the suicide rate has finally started to stagnate since...well, before. It's down to 8 a week. But that's 8 too many."

"Jesus." Steve rubs his face as a strategic—although far from covert—way to wipe at the moisture gathering under his eyes. "Is that just in Manhattan or all of the boroughs?"

Pepper raises a brow. "Do you really want to know?"

"I suppose not,” Steve replies before changing the subject. “Are you working today?"

"Yes," Pepper says all too quickly. A default response.

"I understand." Steve forces a smile before turning around. "Maybe some other time?"

"Wait—Steve." Pepper sighs and in an odd way, Steve can feel the weight of her exhaustion. "Please, come inside. Come up to the penthouse. You don't have to stay long."

Steve reaches out a hand to place on her shoulder, to offer some form of comfort, but ultimately lets his arm drop. He doesn't really know how Pepper would react—whether she'd welcome the solidarity or shrug it off with a hardened smile. Did she know about Siberia? About what he and Tony did to the team, to each other?

"Okay," Steve says finally.

Together they jaywalk across the empty street and enter a mostly vacant lobby. When they reach the private elevator, Pepper is the one to break the silence.

"Your pass for the residence should still work."

Steve's eyes widen slightly before his words slip out. "Oh—I don't think Tony would be that careless."

“Neither would I,” Pepper responds without a beat. "You have it on you, don't you?”

Steve reaches for his wallet and retrieves his old Avengers ID, hardly recognizing the face of the man staring back at him. It’s an older picture, one from his STRIKE Team days. Tony must’ve pulled it from SHIELD’s database once he started working missions with Nat and Clint.

Pushing nostalgia aside, Steve steps forward and waves his ID across the wall scanner in an unfamiliar motion. At the compound, it’s all biometrics now; no need for a physical card.

The sensor glows a warm blue.

"Welcome back, Captain Rogers," FRIDAY chimes.

"Hello, FRIDAY," Steve replies softly, not trusting his voice to remain steady at full volume. It’s almost too much. He feels like a visitor in his own home. But it’s not his home, it hasn’t been in a long time.

"Something wrong?" Pepper asks, sensing something in his tone. God, she’s perceptive.

"It's nothing," Steve responds and he should’ve known better than to elaborate, but the words slip out. "I just realized that last time I was at the Tower, JARVIS was still here.”

Pepper shifts uncomfortably. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. It has been awhile.”

“Are you sure this a good time?” Steve asks, anticipating more than one awkward conversation once they make it to the penthouse.

“No,” Pepper says and although unexpected, Steve appreciates her honesty. “But I think we could both use the company. Why don't we go up?”

Once the elevator doors open to reveal the penthouse suite, Pepper removes her heels and jacket and discards them next to the couch.

The penthouse itself is dead quiet, nearly mimicking the city streets below. It's overwhelmingly lonely. Steve doesn’t know why Pepper chooses to stay here. He ought to invite her to the compound.

His gut tells him Rhodey already has. Numerous times.

“I’ll be upstairs for just a second,” Pepper says as he shoulders her large designer tote. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Steve nods as he watches her go up the stairs and disappear down a hallway.

Looking around the first and second floors, Steve's surprised to see not much has changed aside from the lack of Avengers. The overabundance of glass, the sunken couch, and sterile smell are exactly how he remembered. His head spins for a moment, realizing how much time has passed. One of his last memories were of Ultron’s armored sentinels crashing through Tony’s lab.

“Please, sit,” Pepper reappears, calling out from the staircase. She gestures to the bar. “Can I get you something to drink?"

"I'm okay, thank you,” Steve says as he watches her pour a generous glass of Merlot.

“God, I feel like a squatter in my own home,” Pepper says, perhaps to break the ice, but it falls flat. In response, she takes a few sips of her wine before walking over to meet him on the couch. “I’m sorry, this must be weird for you. If you had something you needed to do—” 

“No, it’s alright. I’m glad to be here,” Steve says, reassuring her with a smile.

“I’m glad,” Pepper says. “I know we don’t know each other very well, but I just want to start off by saying I’m not angry for what happened between you and Tony."

"Pepper—” Steve starts to protest.

"On the sidewalk, I could tell you might feel that way,” Pepper interrupts him, her voice steady. She sips twice from her glass before continuing. “Tony mentioned you clench your teeth when you’re nervous. You’re doing it right now, in fact."

Steve relaxes his jaw. "Is that such a wrong thing to assume? That I’d think you were angry with me if the roles were reversed?”

"No, I suppose not,” Pepper agrees. She delivers her words with confidence, but when Steve looks up, he notices a deep sadness in her eyes. “So, what brings you into the city?” she says, attempting to carry on a similitude of a conversation.

"I suppose I needed a break from the compound."

Pepper raises a brow. "Is that all?"

Steve shrugs. "There was this woman who used to serve me coffee just a few blocks away from here. Always would go out of her way to make conversation.” He feels his mouth curve into an almost wistful smile, thinking back to how confused he had been about the references that inevitably entered their small talk. “She survived the Chitarui attack, even went on national TV to thank us, to thank the Avengers for saving her. I suppose a part of me just wanted to know, to find out if she survived this."

The corner of Pepper's mouth turns upwards. "You're talking about Beth."

Steve's eyes widen in shock. "Wait, how'd you know?"

"She works for the Foundation now." Pepper places her glass on the table and begins fiddling with her wedding ring.

"She's alive?" Steve asks directly.

Pepper nods. "She is."

An immediate feeling of relief relaxes his shoulders. "That's good. I'm glad."

"I'd re-introduce the both of you but she's currently on personal leave. Her fiancé’s funeral was Monday." Pepper gives a dark, haunting laugh. It's unbecoming of the facade she's working so hard to maintain. "I suppose my grief isn't all that original."

The warm feeling of hope quickly dissipates. “I’m so sorry,” Steve says weakly.

Pepper doesn’t respond immediately, so Steve watches her fiddle with her ring as she tries to find her voice.

“There’s a certain cost involved in this line of work, as I’m sure you know,” Pepper begins. “I understood that, although I didn’t always agree with it. But I chose to love him anyway, knowing full well this could be one of the outcomes; the one scenario where he doesn’t come home.” Her words are careful as if she’s had practice reciting them to herself.

“I don’t know how Clint and Laura managed. Especially with the kids,” Steve adds, and apparently, this was not the right thing to say. Pepper’s face twists into something almost painful. Steve curses himself mentally. He’s trying to remain empathetic, but it’s not easy. He’s been alone for so long. A part of him feels like he’s damaged with an emptiness not even the serum can repair. He looks at Pepper and wonders absently if this is what Peggy struggled with after he crashed into the Atlantic.

“He wanted to have a kid so bad,” Pepper says and by her expression, Steve knows he failed to mask his surprise. “I think something changed when he started mentoring the boy from Queens. Without realizing it, I think working with Peter gave him the reassurance he needed to know that he could be a good father.”

“I had no idea Tony wanted kids,” Steve says, incredulously. His mind quickly produces the image of a mini-Stark running around the lab, playing with DUM-E and having conversations with FRIDAY. Laughter and the innocence of youth bringing a happy relief to the Tower.

“He would’ve been an amazing father, but I was selfish,” Pepper confesses. “I couldn’t imagine raising our child alone.”

“That’s not selfish at all,” Steve says immediately. “Don’t do that to yourself, Pepper. That’s a valid concern I’m sure all parents have, whether or not they’re partner flies in an iron suit.”

“Maybe,” Pepper says, considering his words. “But you know what? If I could do it all over, I would. Without hesitation. Because then I would at least have a part of him that survived, even though he didn’t.”

Steve’s chest constricts and he has to mentally prevent himself from clenching his teeth again. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Pepper offers a smile. “You’re doing it right now, Steve.”

“You know,” Steve says carefully, unsure if he was stepping out of line, “I joined a survivor’s group. We meet every Wednesday.”

Pepper purses her lips “What? You think I should go?”

“Have you talked to anyone?”

“I feel like all I’ve been doing is talking. Phone calls, conference calls; meetings with city officials and SI stockholders..." Pepper trails off.

“I meant about how you’re coping.”

“You know, I don’t think I have the energy for that right now. But I appreciate the offer, Steve, really, I do,” Pepper says, reaching over to place a hand on Steve’s shoulder. After a second, her hand drops back down to touch her ring. She must realize it because a moment later, she reaches for her wine glass.

“You’re always welcome if you change your mind.”

Pepper considers this for a moment as she sips her wine. “Do you think it helps?”

“Yes,” Steve says. It isn’t technically a lie. It does help the others, the ones that want to move on. The truly innocent victims in Thanos’ war.

“I don’t know what to do.” Pepper leans back in the couch, wine glass in hand.

“There’s nothing wrong with having a little hope.”

Pepper shrugs. “Hope is a rare commodity these days.”

Steve doesn’t argue with that.

“You know what? I think I’ll take that drink now.”

 

 

 

Time passes. A second bottle of wine is finished before the sun sets over the Manhattan skyline.

They do well to avoid it being entirely a pity party, even managing a few laughs as they reminisce about the early days of the team. It’s oddly therapeutic, sharing moments he hadn’t thought of for years. And it’s quite entertaining to hear new stories about Natasha spying on Tony for Fury.

But like anything, conversations are cyclical and it’s not long before their stories return them to the present.

“Even by some miracle he survived space _again_ ,” Pepper says with emphasis, “Who’s to say that he wasn’t part of the other half? Or what if he was spared and he’s still out there? God, I don’t want to bury an empty casket.” She whispers the last part and Steve wonders if it was meant for his ears.

He thinks back to when his grave marker in Arlington was removed after the Battle of New York. “You don’t have to make a decision today,” Steve says.

“I know.” Pepper stands up and places her empty glass on a nearby coaster. “I didn’t mean to keep you so late, but since you’re here, I was hoping you could help me with something.”

“Of course, Pepper. Anything.” Steve prays she won’t ask him to go look for Tony in space. Not that he wouldn’t go, or that it was an outlandish request. Hell, it was one of the first things he asked Thor and Rocket when they got back to the compound. Unfortunately, their answer was less than reassuring.

Perhaps his prayers will be answered this time because Pepper leads him to the library upstairs. Along the way, Steve blinks a few times to adjust his eyes as FRIDAY automatically illuminates their path.

Once inside the library, Pepper retrieves a small booklet from a desk drawer.

Steve’s heartbeat rises to a deafening level. “What’s that?” he asks innocently, despite already knowing the answer.

Pepper taps the cover of the brown portfolio. “It’s his will. I picked it up today from our safety deposit box.”

Steve runs a shaky hand through his hair, recalling how Pepper went upstairs with her bag shortly after they arrived at the penthouse. His eyes catch on that same bag now occupying one of the reading chairs. He shouldn’t be here for this. Not after Siberia. Not after silence for two years. Forgiveness is a two-way street and while he and Tony may have forgiven each other, neither of them crossed the other side of the street. They waited. And it cost them everything.

“I didn’t want to open it alone,” Pepper says.

“Is Happy—?”

“Gone.”

Steve catches himself clenching his teeth again. “What about Natasha? Or Rhodey?”

Pepper holds a hand to her mouth and shakes her head slightly.

“You know either of them would be here in an instant if you called.”

Pepper looks up at him with tired eyes. “Maybe I just didn’t want to open it.”

“Pepper.”

“I know what I said earlier about being prepared for the inevitable, that he’s going to get himself killed in some battle. But this is Tony. Every time, every damn time, he still manages to defy the odds.”

“I know,” Steve says. He’s seen it, himself.

“But I can’t avoid the lawyers forever. It’s been months now and they want the paperwork signed. They say it’ll bring me closure. But I’m not looking for closure, I don’t want this to be the end,” Pepper says, her voice cracking ever so slightly.

Steve clenches his jaw. Pepper is asking for his help. She isn’t asking Captain America; she’s asking Steve Rogers. And Steve Rogers is no coward.

He pulls up two chairs for them to sit down at the desk. He doesn’t dare peek at the contents of the will. He doesn’t want to be privy to such a personal side of Tony—the side he never truly got to know.

It’s not long before Pepper starts to tear up, her face becoming increasingly red on top of the blush from the wine. She does her best to hide her face at first, but eventually the facade drops and with it, Steve’s heart breaks. This time, he doesn’t hesitate to reach his arms around her. She doesn’t hesitate to lean in.

“He left me the art,” she whispers in-between quiet sobs.

The significance of this is lost on Steve. He knows Tony didn’t just leave her art.

“Tony was always so giving to the team. Without even asking, new armor or new tech would appear in your locker. Or on the table at breakfast.” Steve’s chest tightens with a sinking realization. “I can’t seem to remember anything I’ve ever given him.”

Pepper looks up at him with a smile. “Isn’t it obvious? You all gave him a family.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, just nods in agreement because despite where they find themselves today, there once was a time when what Pepper said was true.

Pepper sighs and wipes at her eyes. “It’s silly to think of now, but we had a dinner reservation.”

_I had a date,_ Steve thinks, but doesn’t speak. For all their differences, he and Tony share this one tragedy.

 

 

 

Pepper eventually falls asleep on the couch downstairs, leaving Steve to mull over his own thoughts. Usually, Sam was the one to pull him out of a spiral with a witty joke or a sparing challenge in whatever dingy hotel room they’ve set up basecamp in. But Sam’s not here, he’s gone like all the others. 

Steve stands up to gather their glasses and empty wine bottles, taking care not to make too much noise in the kitchen as he cleans up. After washing the wine glasses, he reaches in a nearby drawer for a cloth towel and instead finds a set of placemats—another reminder that despite everything, this is no longer his home.

A sudden wave of sadness overwhelms him. Steve shakes his head in protest of his emotions because it’s absolutely ridiculous to be upset about kitchen accessories. Rather than risk waking up Pepper by going through the cabinets in search of a towel, Steve sets the glasses aside to air dry. They’ll be streaky for the next guests, but he doubts Pepper has been doing much entertaining.

Steve retreats down the hallway before pulling out his phone to make the call he’s been wanting to all night.

"Bruce, it's Steve. Yes, I know what time it is. Please, just listen. I need you to make some calls, round up the team at the compound. Who? Anyone who's left and ready to suit up. I know what everyone is thinking, how everyone is feeling. But this isn't over. We’re for a reason: _to avenge_."

Steve says these words not because Bruce needs to hear them, but because he needs the reassurance from himself. To know he can lead the team forward, out from the shadows.

Because although the team has changed, the mission has not.

 

 

_“How were you guys planning on beating them?”_

_“Together.”_

_“We’ll lose.”_

_“Then we’ll do that together, too.”_

**Author's Note:**

> this is only one of the handful of fics i've let sit unfinished for /months/. BUT it's 3am and i'm seeing endgame tomorrow afternoon so there's that... (also, forget Homecoming here...avengers tower is not yet sold bc reality can be whatever i want.)
> 
> thank you for reading! you can (?) find me at my inactive tumblr: resilient-stark.


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